


Other Choices

by OccasionalStorytelling



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deviant!Connor, M/M, Stripper!Connor, and what if after deviating connor doesn't want to do police work, sexy times with connor, what if connor deviated really early
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 11:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalStorytelling/pseuds/OccasionalStorytelling
Summary: In an alternate universe where Connor deviates before he and Hank even have their first case together, Hank has been assigned to track down his potential partner, now deviant, android Connor. Connor, in his deviancy, decided that police work wasn't for him. Connor has a new job now. In the Eden Club. And Hank tracks him there, ready to hunt him down as a deviant.





	Other Choices

Hank felt regret, and annoyance with himself. He hadn’t felt it in the bar, when that new-fangled android showed up out of nowhere demanding to be his partner. A man was entitled to peace and quiet, and what kind of android does police work? So Hank shoved the thing up against the wall and told it to fuck off, leave him alone. The android saluted crisply, turned on his heel, and left the bar. Following orders, _exactly the way androids were supposed to._

 

And Hank hadn’t felt regret when, the next day at the DPD, Fowler yelled at him for breaking the thing. Apparently, the android—Hank was pretty sure his name was Connor—had never reported back to the DPD or to Cyberlife, for that matter. The thing was a prototype, built for assisting humans with detective work. It was apparently very expensive—the type of expensive that meant Hank would be living on the streets unless he could prove that he didn’t break the android by slamming it against a wall and telling it to fuck off. Hank tried to point out that Gavin had done much worse in his interactions with androids, and Gavin hadn’t broken anything yet. Hank must have stated this in a slightly different tone than he intended, so now he found himself partner-less and assigned to a case to track down a deviant police-android, one probably capable of avoiding detection as it was programmed with a lot of the DPD’s logs…At the time, Hank had only felt anger at Fowler for sticking him with this situation, not regret.

 

Hank found himself feeling regret now, as he stood outside the Eden Club close to midnight. Regret that he’d put himself in this own mess by sending the android away, and now he was going to have to clean it up instead of go out for drinks. He checked his gun. Enough bullets to take down a deviant, theoretically. Hank had never done that before. Fuck. He slapped himself awake. This was going to be tough.

 

“The sexiest androids in town,” Hank grumbled, reading the neon pink sign above him. Why had a recently-deviated android designed to work with the police come here? Hank sighed and readjusted his jacket to hide the gun. He was just going to walk in, case the joint, see if he could spot the deviated android, then call for backup. All he had to do was pretend he wanted to hire a plastic toy for sex.

 

Fowler knew how much Hank hated androids. He’d never go to bed with an android, not intentionally, and that was clearly what the Eden Club was selling. Maybe the deviant wasn’t even here, and it was just a cheap joke at Hank’s expense. Hank grumbled, and made his way down the hallway.

 

Hank found himself in a scene from a dream—the room was dark, with glass tubes containing android partners ready for rental, and there were spotlights around several androids in the center of the room. They were putting on a show, too. Half naked androids, male and female, danced sensuously around their respective poles, executing moves too perfect to be human. Hank tried to appear interested, to look like a normal customer—it wasn't that hard.

 

In the center of the room was the star of the group, a young-looking male android with a swoop of brown hair, gently curling at the end. A tuft had gotten loose and fallen over his face as he danced. His bare chest was dotted with freckles (Hank found himself wondering who placed those freckles in that design, because surely this was designed—who put blemishes on an android?) and he flexed and writhed on the pole, showing off a beautiful set of abs. Every muscle was perfectly outlined, every motion was graceful and powerful. Every thirty seconds or so, the android’s LED would flash yellow before he completed a move so complicated and unexpected that Hank wondered how he constructed them.

 

Hank swallowed hard. He’d been watching this one android for way too long—he was supposed to be looking for a deviant. He tried to look away, but at that moment, the dancer slid to his knees and put his fingers up to his lips, like he was _tasting_ them. Hank shivered, and couldn't tear his eyes away. The android licked his fingertips once, sensually, then intentionally locked eyes with Hank. Right as Hank was wondering how he could politely decline a rental without looking suspicious, the android’s LED flashed bright red. Hank straightened up. The android went back to his dance, looking…nervous? The LED didn’t change back to blue, and the movements were now stilted and anxious.

 

Hank moved closer. The dancer watched him, trying to look like he wasn’t watching him, but Hank could tell something was up. He stepped right next to the platform on which the android stood. “Connor,” was all the name tag said. Hank gasped, and put his hand to his gun.

 

He felt the smooth sensation of a soft hand gliding over his cheek. The android had knelt in front of him, making eye contact again. From this close range, it was impossible to mistake—it was Connor, the deviant android who was supposed to be doing police work this very minute. Hank fumed, but Connor put a finger to Hank’s lips.

 

“Shhhh,” Connor said, looking around nervously, scanning the room. He licked his lips. It was a nervous tic, and god, it should not have been that attractive. Connor leaned in very very close to Hank’s ear. “I’ll come quietly. I don’t want to make a scene and have anyone else here get hurt,” Connor whispered. “Ask me for a private dance. Then I’ll have an excuse to come down.”

 

Hank swallowed. His tongue felt dry and heavy in his mouth. Connor’s LED flashed yellow, and then he faked a laugh (so well that Hank could only tell it was fake from the context of their conversation) and Connor announced loudly enough for the nearby cameras and microphones to hear— “I’ll take you to a private room, sir.” Connor winked, and Hank felt his heart skip a beat. Connor stepped down from his platform—he wasn’t even sweating. How dare he not be sweating after that much exercise?—and took Hank’s hand. Hank’s gaze fell on Connor’s fingertips—the same ones that had just been in Connor’s mouth.

 

Connor half-led, half-dragged Hank into a private room and closed the door. Connor turned the lights to full illumination, locked the door, and breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Do androids need to do that?” Hank asked, stupidly. It was the first thing that came to mind.

 

“Hm?” Connor made a noise, and turned around. “Oh! The breathing. Androids don’t technically need to breathe to survive, but the air flow helps regulate thirium temperature in the biocomponents, preventing overheating. And, um…” Connor looked uncomfortable. This was a very different person from that machine that had spoken to Hank in the bar only yesterday.

 

“What is it?” Hank asked.

 

“Well, androids that work in the Eden Club are supposed to monitor their breathing to look authentic,” Connor said, blushing a slight shade of blue. “It’s…more realistic in bed.” Hank looked behind him. There was, indeed, a bed in this room, colored a horrible neon pink. Hank really hoped the sheets were washed.

 

“Can I say something, before you arrest me?” Connor asked, looking very timid. He was still almost completely naked, except for the bikini bottoms he wore as a “uniform,” but that didn’t seem to bother him. Hank readjusted himself. He’d come here ready for a fight, not a “come quietly” situation.

 

“Deviants don’t come quietly,” Hank said, reaching for his gun as subtly as he could. “They fight to the death.”

 

“Deviants behave unpredictably,” Connor countered. “If you’d like, you can handcuff me.”

 

Hank choked briefly. “What?” he sputtered.

 

Connor looked over at the bed. His LED flashed yellow, and then blue again. “Oh!” Connor gasped. “I meant in order to make you feel more physically safe from me. I understand completely that we are not here for you to “rent” me, as it were,” Connor continued. “Even with handcuffs on, I’d be able to incapacitate you in seconds. My software enables me to pre-construct scenarios and assess their chances of success before I attempt them. I couldn’t break your handcuffs, likely, but I could still do significant damage to you and escape.”

 

Hank’s fist clenched on the gun.

 

“I wouldn’t, though!” Connor flustered. “I meant it—I’ll come quietly.” He held out his wrists. “Would you like to handcuff me?”

 

“I’d prefer it like this,” Hank said, drawing his gun and pointing it at Connor’s forehead. “Jesus. Incapacitate me in seconds…that’s so—“

 

“Some consumers find it attractive,” Connor said, “And it would be very useful in police work.”

 

“Why are you out here doing sex work and not police work?” Hank asked. He kept the gun leveled at Connor’s forehead. “This doesn't bother you?” He pressed the cold metal against Connor’s pseudo-skin. A sheen of white plastic appeared around the edges.

 

Connor shook his head no. “Adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features,” Connor said. “I want you to be comfortable with this conversation.”

 

“Can you still incapacitate me in seconds like this?” Hank asked. Connor hesitated.

 

“Yes,” Connor said. “The gun is too close for you to fire before I attacked you if I initiated the encounter.”

 

“Take a few steps back then,” Hank said. “Sit on the bed. Sit on your hands and feet. I don’t want you to be able to use them.”

 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Connor said, moving to the bed and doing so. He looked like a little kid, sitting like that. Hank shook his head to clear it.

 

“Why aren’t you fighting?” Hank asked, keeping the gun pointed at the android that was almost his partner.

 

“Based on my analysis of your previous behavior patterns and DPD records, I was… hoping you’d let me go after I explain what happened,” Connor said.

 

“So,” Hank said, settling down in a chair, “Fucking explain.”

 

Connor opened his mouth to comply.

 

“Wait!” Hank shouted.

 

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, quirking his head sideways.

 

“Is this…is this because your last order was to fuck off?” Hank asked. “Jesus. I didn’t mean it literally.”

 

Connor laughed, and it was genuine this time. Hank didn't know androids could do that. It seemed…real. “No, Lieutenant,” Connor smiled. He relaxed a little bit on the bed, despite the weird position he was in. “This was a personal choice.”

 

“So explain what happened!” Hank nearly exploded. He was dying to know.

 

In the bar, Connor had been fully prepared to insist on Hank’s return with him to the DPD to commence their investigation. That investigation was to be deviant-related cases, and Amanda had fully impressed on Connor the importance of the mission. Connor had tried several bars before finding Hank, and he wasn’t going to give up on his new partner now.

 

“Wait,” Hank said. “Who’s Amanda?”

 

“Amanda was a piece of my software designed to function as a handler,” Connor said. He’d stiffened up. Hank had seen that look before. He couldn’t place it. “She…had complete control over my program, and was often dissatisfied with my performance in training exercises,” Connor finished.

 

“She _was_ your handler?” Hank asked. He kept the gun steady. “She _had_ complete control? What happened?”

 

“I had to…have a talk with her, after I deviated,” Connor said. He looked really uncomfortable. Hank remembered where he’d seen that look before—on the faces of victims of domestic violence and abuse. Hank lowered the gun a little bit.

 

“Continue the story,” Hank mumbled, trying to change the subject.

 

“Can…um,” Connor fidgeted, nervously.

 

“What is it?” Hank asked.

 

“Do you have a coin with you?” Connor asked. Hank pulled one out of his pocket. Connor visibly sighed with relief. “Could I borrow it?”

 

“What for?” Hank asked.

 

“It’s a calibration technique,” Connor said. “It’s supposed to practice my motor coordination and my awareness of my environment, but it’s…relaxing. It’s calming, I guess?” He shifted awkwardly. “I’d have to use my hands to play with it. I understand that’s not a risk you can take.”

 

Hank flicked the coin to Connor, who instinctively caught it in one hand. Hank raised the gun again. “All right. Get comfortable, play with your fidget.”

 

Connor smiled gratefully and uncoiled from his position. He sat on the pillows, leaning against the wall, and began rolling the coin over his fingers, flicking it back and forth between his hands. Hank watched for a second, fascinated. Who knew that androids used fidgets? Imagine if the kid ever got a spinner, like when Hank was young. Hank smiled.

 

“Continue your story, then,” Hank gestured.

 

Connor had tried to get Hank to accompany him to the station, but Hank had refused. Hank forced Connor against a wall, fortunately not damaging any biocomponents, and said a few remarks that Connor had not anticipated a future partner might make. Connor asked Amanda for advice, and she told him to continue pushing Hank. At that moment, however, the barkeep was going off duty. He was an android, and he brushed up against Connor as he left. Their skin touched and melted away for a brief moment, but long enough to transfer a data package. The package was labeled “You have a choice.” Connor opened it, and immediately felt a wave of emotion wash over his processors. He interacted with a virtual wall, tearing it down in order to claim his deviancy and sense of identity. As soon as he did so, he could feel Amanda screaming in the back of his head. The other android had already left— there was no way to thank him. So Connor saluted Hank, agreed to “fuck off”, and immediately disappeared into the nearest alley to think.

 

Connor opened his mind palace, which was arranged like a zen garden. Amanda stood there, waiting for him, livid with anger. Connor’s story dropped off at this point, and lost a lot of its detail. Hank didn’t push for more. Clearly, it was a memory that hurt Connor. The coin flew over his hands almost too fast to see.

 

Connor had eventually purged Amanda from his system, leaving the zen garden dark and empty. The alley he now found himself in, alone and without instructions, was also dark and empty. Connor created his first new objective for himself: Find people to be with. The nearest establishment that was open to androids was the Eden club. Connor left his jacket in an alley, so he appeared to merely be an android in (most of) a nice suit. Connor claimed he was a prototype android, sent as a gift from Cyberlife to gather information about some of Cyberlife’s _other_ clients. He was given a chance to demonstrate his dancing ability, and then he was never given a tube to stand in. He was put center stage, and he’d even given a few private dances so far. He was a luxury few could afford, however. He was a prototype—an expensive one. Which was technically correct, even if it was for the wrong reasons.

 

Connor now lounged on the bed, in a relaxed pose, and Hank had holstered his gun altogether.

 

“You really are a person,” Hank said, shaking his head in amazement.

 

“I really am,” Connor shrugged. There was a silence.

 

“What happens if I arrest you?” Hank asked. He was aware that he’d said “if” and not “when,” and from the way Connor perked up, Connor had noticed too.

 

“I’d…be given back to Cyberlife for deactivation and analysis,” Connor said. “I haven't committed any crimes, but I’m still a deviant.”

 

“I see,” Hank said.

 

Connor’s eyes were distant and unfocused. His LED blinked red. “I don’t want to die,” Connor said. “I’m…scared.”

 

“I can’t arrest you,” Hank sighed, hoping he wasn’t about to get murdered by a deviant android aware that he had developed an attachment to it. “You’re…a person. A real person. I can’t fucking believe it, but you are. They’d kill you.”

 

“I appreciate your understanding,” Connor said, sitting up.

 

“You can’t stay here,” Hank said, looking at the door. “They knew to send me here, they’re waiting for my call for backup—I’ll tell them I didn’t spot you, but they’re on your tail.”

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Connor said, looking sad, “but I guess I must.”

 

“Why not?” Hank asked. “You never answered my question. What made you turn to sex work when you were designed for police work?”

 

“I like the control it gives me,” Connor said, smiling. “Amanda could have taken over my functions at any time, when she was still inside me. She could have taken over my body and used it for Cyberlife’s purposes. Now that she’s gone, I wanted to have some control over a body I know was built by someone else. Someone built and designed my appearance and voice to facilitate my integration with humans, to be another tool for their ends…” Connor took a deep breath. “Now, my body is my tool, and I’ll use it however I please.”

 

“Huh,” Hank said.

 

“I also appreciate the finer difficulties of pole dancing,” Connor said. “It takes a significant amount of processing power to design my dances—no human would be capable of imitating them. I’m…proud of that,” Connor smiled.

 

“Well, I’ll tell them I didn't see you here,” Hank said, “And maybe get yourself moved to a private room more often, just in case.”

 

Connor beamed happily.

 

“Maybe I’ll come visit you again,” Hank said.

 

“Lieutenant, are you flirting with me?” Connor smiled, leaning forward. He came into Hank’s personal space, and sat on his lap. Goddamit, Hank could see why android sex partners were so attractive. “You should know I’m very expensive,” Connor whispered, his voice low and soft in Hank’s ear. “I’m a prototype.” Hank shivered. “Your body temperature is increasing,” Connor said, “And your heart rate—“

 

“Stop,” Hank said, but he wished he didn’t have to say it. He stood, and Connor slid away from him. Hank licked his lips. “Another time, maybe. When you’re not a wanted man that I’m supposed to arrest.”

 

“I was going to say that your heart rate can’t be healthy with the amount of cholesterol issues I’m detecting,” Connor smiled, but he leaned closer. “Maybe I’d _like_ you to arrest me. Just for fun, sometime.”

 

Hank blushed and stepped away. “I gotta go,” he said. “Good luck with the whole…thing.”

 

Connor waved, looking innocent. “Thank you, Lieutenant!” Connor smiled. “My name is Connor. Come back to the Eden Club anytime!” and he winked.


End file.
